LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 

Chap. Copyright No. 



Shelt--ti.54.feID 7 

^^OQ 

UNITED STATES OF AMERJCA. 



Dreamland Hours 



BY 

KATE GREGORY 




^ 



LaFayette, 

THE HOME JOURNAL, 

1899. 






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SECOND COPY, 








DEAR READERS; 

In the brief sketch of Dreamlaqd Hours, you may have 
a glimpse of the inner man, a foretaste rather, of the yearn- 
ings of a poet's l^eart; that tf]ere are clrean]s iq all lives I do 
not doubt, but a poets life seen^s to stand out alone. The 
unquenchable longings, I fancy, have been the cause of 
som[e of our sv\/eetest singers in verse to go astray, and I 
believe also, to lead them the nearest to the gates of 
Heaveq. That Drearr[land Hours will be severely criticised 
I do not doubt, for tP]e vein that is paramount in its pictures, 
yet this has been one incentive to open its pages to the 
world so the tender voice ever singing so sweetly, mjay tt-[rill 
some otf]er hjcarts and awakeq them to tf]e love He so 
gently weaves about us. 




Dreamland Hours 

My Mother i 

Mother's Touch 2 

Hope's Dekision 3 

The W. C. T. U 4 

Jack Frost 5 

Lillies of the Valley 6 

When the Storm Winds Howl 7 

Baby Jarrett 8 

Dewey Crowned 9 

We Alone Can Doom Our Souls 10 

Springtime of Life 11 

Childhood's Home 13 

On to Victory 15 

A Scenery 17 

Farewell to 1898 19 

Departed Years 20 

Surprised 21 

The Things of Life 23 

At the Door 25 



CONTENTS. 



Unreal 26 

The Victory Ours 2^ 

Enchanting Solitude 29 

Coming Home 31 

The Song of Life :}i}y 

Departed Scenes 34 

Lucille 35 

A Dry Moon 36 

To Company C 37 

When Johnnie Comes Home 39 

Answer to Dryden's, Ah, How Sweet 41 

Cur Jubilee 42 

Evening Musings 44 

Thanks Offering 45 

Why I'm Saddest When I Sing 46 

Cupid's Game 47 

The Song Unsung 48 

Why Is It Thus? 19 

Fair Week 50 

Sympathy S'2 

Shall It Be Death or Victory? 53 

Lines to Stephen A. Baer 55 

In Memory of Luther Hudlow 57 

Christ's Mission Here 59 

Voices from the Other Shore 61 

What Would They Tell Us? 63 

Time Makes All Things Plain 65 

Consolation 66 

Lines to Nellie Beck d'j 

Dear Heart 68 

Mary Kyle Dallas 70 

April Gloom 71 

The Voice of Love 72 

A Winter Scene T^i 



CONTENTS. 



If We Would Only Trust 75 

The Joys of Spring T] 

The Month of Roses 79 

Bring Flowers for All 80 

The Dying Year 82 

Learn of Birds 83 

Make the Home a Sacred Place 84 

Light and Love 86 

Fate's Cruel Hands 87 

My Dark Eyed Engineer 89 

The Robin 90 

Two Pair of Hands 92 

Past, Present, Future 93 

We Cannot Do Without Tliem 95 

To Hannah 97 

A United Prayer 99 

Lines to Charles Strobel loi 

Sacred Grief 103 

Voices of the Storm 105 

Far Better than a Prize 106 

Be Firm and True 107 

The Cricket's Song 108 

Undying Love 109 

Some Day, Some Time 110 

By and B v in 

The Wild 'Waves 112 

Decoration Day 113 

Abraham Lincoln 114 

A^oices in My Heart 115 

Entertwine 116 

Not All in Vain 117 

The Regular Visitor 118 

Autumn Time 119 

Drifting With the Tide 120 

The Golden Wedding 121 

To the Little Nephew 123 

Baby Maxwell Chamberlain 125 

J. Whitcomb Riley 126 




Dreamland Ibouve. 



'Tis in the happy hours of youth 

That all the world is fair; 
How easy then to speak the truth 

Or lisp the evening prayer. 
Ah yes. 'tis true, the world is new, 

We watch the early dawn; 
How bright to view, the morning dew. 

Glistens upon the lawn. 

How fair to us its dreaming hours. 

The youthful heart is thrilled; 
How sweet the scent of fragrant flowers, 

With joy our lives are filled. 
Its trifling cares, with many snares 

Are quickly cast away; 
The unawares, thus likewise fares 

For youth is bright and gay. 



DREAMLAND HOURS. 



While standing on the river's brink 

You watch the flowing stream; 
As from the gushing fount you drink 

Some fair and happy dream. 
There comes no thought, what time hath wrought 

To many a dreamer wild; 
Yet life's been fraught, and dearly bought 

By many a dreaming child. 

Oh happy, free and careless hours, 

We will not disturb your rest; 
Too soon will come the frequent showers 

And drive them from the breast. 
Then youth's bright dream will often gleam 

Amid life's bitter tears; 
No light may beam, as down the stream 

We drift in after year. 



MY MOTHER. 

My mother's face is soft and fair, 
And streaked with gray her jetty hair; 
Yet there is naught the world can give 
Like mother's love while she may live. 
While life with all its changeful cares 
Is blended with her earnest prayers; 
For oh! this love, this mother's love 
With angelic missions from above. 

My mother's hands show time and care 
And faithfully their task they bear; 
Yet life with all its golden strands 
Hath naught so fair as mother's hands 
And mother's voice the sound so sweet 
That with all things of earth compete 
How sweetly on the ear doth fall 
That sacred sound, a mother's call. 

Yet time and care will surley trace 
Their lines upon my mother's face; 
Yet like the gray that streaks her hair 
'Twill make my mother's face more fair 
And bowed her form so soon may be 
Yet dearer still that form to me; 
For every warning to me given, 
Guides me on the way to heaven. 



(I) 



MOTHER'S TOUCH. 



MOTHER'S TOUCH. 

I hear the patter of the rain 
As it falls against the pane, 
And its music soft and low 
Brings to mind the long ago! 
When in childhood, gay and free. 
Oft I played at mother's knee; 
And that mother's touch so mild 
Soothed to sleep her thoughtless child. 
When in years to come I weep 
Let thy touch lull me to sleep. 

Ah; how oft these weary eyes 
Will gaze upon life's weeping skies! 
Ah; how oft this heart will ache 
Ere with pain its chords will break! 
Oh! how oft will sorrow thrill 
Ere I hear its "peace be still" 
Years may come and pass below, 
All life's joys may turn to woe; 
Oft the yearnings o'er me creep, 
Mother! lull thy child to sleep. 

Ah; we little know the pain. 
As the years of childhood wane; 
Little dream of mother's tears 
'Til the long, long after years! 
Then so oft, when hope hath fled, 
When sleeping in her narrow bed, 
We creep back to childhood hours, 
Hearts full of life's withered flowers, 
Down the years will softly sweep. 
Mother, lull thy child to sleep. 



HOPE'S DELUSION. 



HOPE'S DELUSION. 

The day's bright dawn is soft and fair, 
With faintest breath of perfumed air, 
Falls on the brow, and everywhere 
Life's sweet hope mingles with its glare. 
And e'en the breeze through branch of trees 
Send forth its strange, sweet melodies, 
But still it seems their golden gleams. 
Borne on life's fitful, fiowing streams 
Bring back to us unfinished dreams! 

Life's dawn unto our waking eyes 
Oft brings to us some sweet surprise, 
And longing hopes that will arise 
Seem borne to us from paradise. 
Oft winds so strong will waft along 
The breath of a familiar song. 
Then to our ear come sounds so drear, 
Seem floating round some loved one's biei 
All dampened by life's bitter tear! 

Ah! fleeting years that pass us by, 
On which the hopes of youth rely; 
In after years we vainly try 
You to recall, so swift you fly! 
And yet the pain to call in vain 
When hope hath vanished in your train, 
For then we know how oft life's woe 
Brings back the sweets of long ago 
When buried deep beneath its snow! 



THE W. C. T. U. 



THE W. C. T. U. 

They say of the W. C. T. U. 
I wonder now what they can do? 
Their place within the household stands 
With heart and brain and busy hands, 
The foaming circles in the tub 
Proclaim alloud her place to rub. 

But not alone in household work, 

God's children ne'er was known to shirk; 

Christ gave command to Mary to "go." 

And help dispel the Prophet's woe. 

Many are found in every strife 

To nobly bear the cross of life. 

We find in the W. C. T. U. 

Good soldiers that are brave and true 

Intemperance they came to fight 

And set our staggering nation right, 

And where "the voices of two or three," 

Christ says "there also I shall be." 

While men will drink and women pray 
Dark night may turn to brighest day; 
Her life work is the nobler plan, 
The glory of the perfect man. 
And when you ask what they can do, 
Just go to the W. C. T. U. 



JACK FROST. 



JACK FROST. 

Sparkle, sparkle, everywhere, 
Still, we said it was not fair, 
When we saw the fields so green, 
Covered with your silvery sheen; 
For we knew how much you cost; 
Oh! you pilfering Jack Frost. 

Everything was fair and bright, 
As if sparkling with delight; 
Fancy we— the drooping head. 
Where your mantle now is spread. 
Care you not for all we've lost? 
Oh! you rogisli Jack Frost. 

In the fields the golden rod 

Like some sparkling jewels nod; 

Everything is dressed in white; 

Came you like a thief at night. 

While our minds with dreams engrossed 

But not of pilfering Jack Frost. 

E'en the garden we can see 
Has been visited by thee; 
Everything you touched is bare, 
Yet you did not seem to care, 
When so carelessly you tossed, 
Oh! you roguish Jack Frost. 



LILIES OF THE VALLEY. 



LILIES OF THE VALLEY. 

The lilies of the valley bend 
Their graceful heads and to us lend 

Their fragrance sweet; 
And oh, so oft our footsteps wend 
Toward the home of a sick friend 

And they repeat 

Their worth that we are telling here 
And often falls a tender tear 

From weary eyes; 
Whose hours had grown so very drear, 
Where now some rays of hope appear; 

As with surprise 

They gaze into the face above 
And whisper to you how they love 

The lilies fair. 
And not unlike the cooing dove 
And inner chord they seem to move 

While purfumed air 

Seems floating a 11 around the bed 
And fills the spaces overhead 

The tender voice; 
Of the lilies' praises much hath said 
As in their modest droop is read 

How they rejoice 

To blossom for somebody's sake 
And in some fainting heart awake 

Longing to live; 
And with their sweetest fragrnce make 
Easy life's toils to undertake 

He doth give. 



WHEN THE STORM WINDS HOWL. 



WHEN THE STORM WINDS HOWL. 

The lowering skies above us 
Look not so far away; 
Although they frown so darkly 
And look so cold and gray. 

The storm winds howl around us 
Outside seems bleak and drear; 
But who shall fear the tempest 
Indoors is bright with cheer. 

We know when storm wind rages 
Across the mead and moor; 
It brings great desolation 
To the uncared for poor. 

Oh, Lord! Who heareth prayer 
Who sways the tempest wild; 
Through freezing winds of winter 
Guard well each helpless child. 

And when the snow is falling 
So fair to some below; 
To those it brings no gladness 
Pitty their bitter woe. 

The chilling blasts of winter 
Brings many a broken heart; 
For some with hunger perish 
Crossing life's lonely mart. 

Then Father up in Heaven 
Look with thy pitying eye 
For all shallfind at last with thee 
No storms beyond the sky. 



BABY JARRETT. 



BABY JARRETT. 

We stood by the small white casket 
And we saw the bitter tears; 

Yet we feel in the deepest sorrow 
Oft the Glory Land appears. 

For again the voice of the mother 
Who had joined the realms of song; 

Said "how sweet is my little darling, 
How I wish I could take you along.' 

Four months had that tiny floweret 
Bloomed without mother's care; 

And now from this earthly prison 
It has gone her joys to share. 

And those who most have cherished 

And sheltered it with love; 
Know that another angel 

Is waiting for them above. 

Yet how could we ask to keep her 
When we know what its glories; are 

And we feel the mother was waiting, 
At the "beautiful gates ajar." 



DEWEY CROWNED. 



DEWEY CROWNED. 

Didn't Dewey climb quick 
Up the ladder of fame? 
All the bards are singing 
Set the words aflame! 
How Dewey did maneuver 
Until he won the game. 
And wrote the word victorious 
And an Immortal name! 

Yes, Dewey was cool headed, 

His soul it was on fire! 

The murderous Spanish hirelings 

Had touched his manly ire; 

And filled him with that firm resolve 

To the Spainards proved so dire, 

And stir the people's heart with song 

And flashes o'er the wire. 

We surely will crown Dewey 

L^ur hero of the war! 

Not just a gallant sailor 

For above the cannon's roar 

We hear the cool commanding voice 

As he views his brave men o'er 

And the disaster that was wrought 

On the Manila shore. 

Yes, Dewey won the laurels. 

We want the fairest spray; 

For we shall ever crown him 

Our king! the first of May! 

Heretofore the "Queen of May" we sang 

But now we'll gladly say 

That Dewey won the victory 

And bore her crown away. 



lo WE ALONE CAN DOOM OUR SOULS. 



WE ALONE CAN DOOM OUR SOULS. 

Though the tempest round me gather, 

And the angry billows roll; 
They can only kill the body. 

They cannot destroy the soul. 

As I sit and view the future 

With its pathways dark and drear, 

Low,as though a strain of music 
Softly breaks upon my ear. 

Sinner if you'll only trust me, 
All your sins to me confess, 
You will find a pardoning Savior, 
All your future life to bless. 

Hark! the song of endless ages 

Breaks afresh upon my soul; 
And the praise we sing to Jesus, 

Through eternity shall roll. 

Life is but a passing moment, 

Oh! eternity, how long. 
Terrible if spent in torment, 

Glorious if spent in song. 

All my sins I'll bring to Jesus, 
He will help me bear my cross. 

And I know through endless ages, 
I can never sufifer loss. 

With his banner floating o'er me. 

In a glad triumphant song, 
I will shout his praise in glory, 

With that bright angelic throng, 



SPRINGTIME OF LIFE. ii 

SPRINGTIME OF LIFE. 

I think to-day of hours that's fled. 
Of hopes that slumber with the dead; 
Some verses in the years gone by 
Bring to my lips a longing sigh- 
Some that I wrote with questions rife 
About the springtime of my life. 

Ah, yes, those happy hours have gone. 
And still the years move slowly on; 
The hopes that shed their golden ray 
One by one have passed away. 
I remember one verse that I wrote, 
And I will try its lines to quote. 

Twenty years, some sad, some gay. 
Have come for me and passed away; 
And still I ask, with questions rife. 
When comes the springtime of my life? 
And I wonder if there e'er will be 
A bright springtime of life for me? 

Long years have come and passed away 
In the dark-brown hair are threads of gray; 
The eyes that danced with youthful light. 
Like the years, now past, are not so bright. 
The heart hath changed, too, with the years-- 
Grown softer by its weight of tears. 

Those questions oft come back to me. 
But, oh, so changed they seemed to be; 
For then I thought the all in life 
Was to be some true man's loving wife. 
But time hath proved as years have fled, 
Best be a child of God instead. 



12 SPRINGTIME OF LIFE. 



What future years will bring to me 

I patiently wait to see; 

For God hath sent His changeless love, 

That hovers o'er me like a dove. 

I know there is a bright springtime 

For me in that Eternal Clime. 



CHILDHOOD'S HOME. 13 

CHILDHOOD'S HOME. 

How well I remember the days of yore 

When I was a little girl, 
But many a year has passed me o'er 

And changed the sunny curl; 
But the dear old home again I see, 

How strange its memories twine, 
While the scent of the flowers come back to me 

From the honey- suckle vine. 

The old home where my brothers grew 

And where my sisters dear. 
The pleasures of their childhood knew 

Also the childish tear; 
And the flowers bloomed their fragrants sweets 

Where the noonday sun would shine, 
And I recall these old retreats 

With the honey suckle vine. 

And with the thoughts of eventide 

Come thesound of the bleeting sheep, 
The flames leap high on the old fireside 

Where the shadows played "bo-peep;" 
And I am watching them again 

How in my heart they shine, 
Nor can the magical power of pen 

Paint the honey-suckle vine. 



14 CHILDHOOD'S HOME. 



The humming bird hath gone to rest, 

The cows from the pasture hie, 
The evening meal of all the best 

Wherein such pleasures lie; 
The shelter of the parent arm 

Seems closer to entwine, 
There's many a heart that wears this charm 

With a honey-suckle vine. 



ON TO VICTORY. 



ON TO VICTORY. 

H urrah ! Hurrah ! Hurrah ! 

For our gallant men in blue; 

But didn't they show Cevera 

What American men can do? 

And didn't they show the Spainards 

That our men had the vim? 

And if they did not want to drown 

They would have to learn to swim? 

Hurrah! Hurrah for Wainwright 
And hurrah for Captain Clark; 
I guess they showed Cevera's men 
They wasn't on a lark. 
Hurrah for Schley and Evans, 
All of Sampson gallant men. 
The Spanish will find America 
Knows where to strike and when. 

Hurrah for the boys we've trusted 
With our honor and the blue! 
Hurrah for the sons of America 
With hearts so brave and true. 
We will lift "Old Glory" higher, 
See its beauty all unfurled, 
So the flag of freedom's glory 
May be viewed by all the world. 

For those lovely stars and stripes 

By American blood is bought! 

So lift aloft "Old Glory" 

For the sake of those that fought 

For America's patriotic! 

For its brave men yet to die! 

We will sing "Star Spangled Banner," 

We will set its folds on high. 



]6 ON TO VICTORY. 



And while thus we watch it floating 
Its bright colors on the breeze; 
Don't you think its inspiration 
Will spread over onr land and seas? 
Don't you think the bonny colors 
Of their country's flag so true; 
Gives determined strength and vigor 
To our own dear boys inblue? 

Is it strange they rally round it, 
Arms so strong and hearts so brave; 
For our flag how many fathers 
Rest in a patriotic grave, 
While we count America's heroes 
That have not gave their lives in vain; 
While we fight for Cuba's freedom 
We remember, too, the Maine! 



A SCENERY. 17 



A SCENERY. 

'Twas a beautiful winding river still 

That through a woodland flows, 

Upon its banks and old-time mill, 

In majestic ruins rose; 

And the woods so green, the wood so green 

Its winding way did close. 

And I thought of the hand that painted 

That beautiful scene to view, 

And wondered if the Artist fainted 

Before his work was through; 

And if he ever thought, if ever he thought 

That others would love it too? 

Then I thought of the beautiful hillsides 
That are hidden away from sight; 
And then of the rushing mill tides 
That have long gone by in their flight; 
And if the artist today, if the artist today 

For across that beautiful river 

The horizon shineth afar, 

And I fancy the branches quiver 

As the evening breezes ajar; 

And my heart feels a thrill, my heart feels a thrill 

At the glimmering light of a star. 

As I look at the picture hanging 

In its beauty against the wall, 

I think of the fond hopes clanging 

That came ere the artist's call; 

And if his heart was true, if his heart was true 

If he loved and cherished all. 



i8 A SCENERY. 



Do we find that its beauty fadeth 

At the many thoughts that arise? 

As only the gloaming shadeth 

The light of the evening skies, 

And the artist some day the artist some day 

I may see with undimmed eyes. 



FAREWELL TO 1898. 19 

FAREWELL TO 1898. 

Ah; dear old yaer, in vain once more 
We stand upon your native shore; 
And sigh to think your day is o'er! 

Forever; and ever! 
We loved thee well, dear dying year 
And even now though brown and sear; 
You thrill our heart with hope and cheer 

For you were gay and clever. 

And yet we cannot help but sigh 
For all your hours that passed us by; 
To think your time has come to die! 

Farewell; we say farewell. 
Another year its sweets may bring 
And we may just as gayly sing; 
Yet to each heart your memeories cling 

As we your pleasures tell. 

But such is life, soon we must go 
Like you from out this world of woe; 
No more its happiness to know 

Forever more! Forever more! 
gorow and age, oft touch the heart 
And make ns Ipng for to depart; 
With hope and peace, we often start 

To reach a better shore. 

Ah! surely this must be the fate 
Of all that live; either soon or late, 
As eighteen hundred and ninety-eight 
Will have to die; will have to die 
What is the use to grieve and pine? 
Let in our heart hope build its shrine; 
As we welcome eighteen hundred and niety-nine, 
And whisper to you, Good-bye! 



20 DEPARTED YEARS. 



DEPARTED YEARS. 

I am going back to childhood, to those happy days gone by 
When the daylight is departing , and the evening shadows 

hie; 
Sitting there upon the doorstep, with dear mother by our 

side, 
There so often she hath told us, how the blessed Master died! 
Siting there as evening deepened, and the world was calm and 

still, 
Save from out the distant tree tops, came the sad, low, Whip- 

poor-Will, 
How my longing heart recalls them— of my mother calm, 

serene. 
How we used to sit and listen, to me, mother was a queen; 
In my heart the dear old stories, that mymother used to tell. 
Has had a blest influence, cast o'er me thir magic spell, 
And again when evening deepens, from the tree tops on the 

hill. 
Once again so sad and lonely, comes the distant, Whip-poor- 

Will. 
And I sit once more and listen, as in happy days of yore. 
For I know the days of childhood will return to me no more; 
Still I cannot help this sadness, of the dear departed years, 
How their cadence strangely lingers, filling eyes with bitter 

tears. 
Once again the voice of mother, with the childrens' queries 

thrill. 
And again from out the shadows, comes the faint, sweet, 
Whip-poor-Will. 



"SURPRISED." 21 



•'SURPRISED." 

[Dedicated to Josiah Martin, on the anniversary of his 50th 
birthday.] 

Yes, 'twas true, for I was thinking 
Of those bygone fifty years 
To the very dregs was drinking 
Pausing not for hopes or fears, 
All around was strangely quiet 
Not a sound of coming riot. 

Thinking of life's many trials 

With its joys along the way, 

Of its hopes and self denials 

Beginning at life's dawn of day, 

Hark! What means that strange commotion 

Like the rumbling of the ocean. 

Then the smothered sounds of laughter 
Falls unpon my listening ear 
And the wild rush coming after 
Gives to me its meaning clear 
I said at fifty years not wise 
And I would claim it a surprise. 

Soon I saw they came prepared 
Hands and hearts alike were fiilled. 
Those at home this knowledge shared 
Plans werecarried out as willed; 
And I said "as unto me 
May those things return to thee." 



22 "SURPRISED." 



When they left 'twas near the dawning 
Wished me many a glad return 
Saying life had reached its morning 
Where its riches we discern 
And the cares of life seem lighter 
Ties of friendship make life brighter. 



THE THINGS OF LIFE. 23 

THE THINGS OF LIFE. 

Within this busy whirl of life, 
We find our wants are ever rife; 
And as we walk our city's street 
How many things our eyes will greet . 
Yes, windows filled with laces fair, 
(Could we their soft folds only share); 
But all of life is not dress and face. 
We find there's something in the taste. 

And as we walk the street of Main, 
This taste with all its sure to gain; 
Strawberries, this delicious fruit. 
In various ways the taste will suit. 
The goose and raspberries are there. 
With luscious peach and plum so rare; 
The best of fruit for you and me, 
We find at Otto's grocery. 

Bananas, oranges, they sell. 
That reach this mortal tasteso well; 
The pine apple we all must know, 
With lemons, dates and figs, they show. 
We find this changeful life of ours 
Will call for fruit as well as flowers; 
If you want to see first, then obtain, 
Cal at the corner of Tenth and Main. 



24 THE THINGS OF LIFE. 

And then from fruits we are sure to go 
(To hear the early chicken crow.) 
Spring chicken, and potatoes new, 
Wax beans, and squash, with spinach too; 
With radish, onions, parcley, beets 
That aids in life much more than sweets, 
Are among the eatables that sell 
At Otto's grocery so well. 

And cabbage, celery and peas 
Are sure somebody's taste to please; 
Asparagus and turnips new 
Will reach the taste of not a few, 
Ah, well; there is no use for me 
To speak of all, just call and see; 
If many favors you would gain 
Then call at Otto's, Tenth and Main. 



AT THE DOOR. 25 



AT THE DOOR. 

Our coiitry's standing face to face 

With that terrible crisis— war! 

Ah, do we feel that aught can place. 

Were all its glories more — 

Those it will sweep from out our race 

On this rebellious shore? 

We hear the battle cry arise, 
We see our loved ones go; 
To face the shot and shell that flies 
Around them, from the foe. 
And as we gaze into their eyes, 
This is the hour of woe! 

And yet we dare not hear the cry 

Of children all in vain; 

And how they perish then and die 

By the cruelty of Spain. 

How mothers see their infants lie 

Powerless to save them pain. 

And oh, we cry in Jesus name 
Go forth with mighty shield, 
The glories of His peace proclaim 
Upon the battle field! 
Write ".Tndependence"this the fame 
That will not shrink nor yield. 

And when again we see you come, 
Those who escape the bier? 
The music of the beating drum. 
The blinding of the tear-- 
May hide the agony so dumb 
For the voice we fail to hear! 



26 UNREAL. 



UNREAL. 

There oft in life will o'er us creep 
A feeling that we fain would weep; 
And yet, 'tis true, we never know 
What it may be afifects us so. 

Deep in the heart a loneliness, 
And yet we call it not distress; 
But such a longing sadness, still. 
Each chord in life will vaguely thrill. 

At times we would be all alone 
And harken to the whispered tone; 
Oh, solemn sadness, why art thou 
So softly touching heart and brow? 

Why are those words so low and sweet 
That we can almost them repeat? 
Say in our lives why do you steal, 
So sadly true, yet so unreal? 



THE VICTORY OURS. 27 



THE VICTORY OURS. 

Sing aloud a glad Hosanna 
Let the vast breeze catch the strain! 
Shout His praise all ye victorious 
Give glory to His blessed name! 
All ye armies that have conquered 
All whose blood hath freedom bought; 
Sing the praise of perfect triumph 
For the glory quickly wrought. 

King of kings! We shall not falter 
In the praise we bring to Thee; 
Only Thee; could give the glory 
Or set Thy toiling servants free. 
Yes, we see the form of Capron 
And Captain Fish that bravely fell; 
With the hundreds of brave soldiers 
By the hurtling Spanish shell. 

Yet we said that we would do it 
Set Cuba free if it was thy will! 
And we felt Thy presence with us 
As we climbed that death strewn hill! 
Know we well that right will triumph 
Even though Hades seem to oppose; 
Thus we won in every battle 
Bore the victory from the foes. 



28 THE VICTORY OURS. 



'Tis a nation's shout for gladness 
Loud the blissful strain prolong! 
Though we find a chord of sadness 
Death gives us victory over wrong. 
'Tis a Father's hand hath guided 
He surely hath the pilot been! 
Through deep waters we have glided 
Reached the harbor, entered in. 

Now a nation shouts its praises 

Raise the banner! Let it wave! 

All unfurled its beauty raises — 

A mighty shout for heroes brave! 

Sing aloud a glad Hosanna 

Our boys in blue have died for this! 

And while we sing our heroes conquered 

They enjoy eternal bliss. 



ENCHANTING SOLITUDE. 29 



ENCHANTING SOLITUDE. 

I wandered to the silent wood 
When all the world seemed new; 
The flowers blossomed where 1 stood, 
Above the skies were blue. 
Strange melodies I seem to hear 
That fell upon my listening ear; 
Enraptured in the murmuring wood, 
As if enchanced there I stood. 

What music through your branches roll. 

As from the mighty deep! 

Oh! murmurings that thrill the soul! 

Why seemeth you to weep? 

As if spell bound I stand and gaze 

On loveliness the soul must daze; 

While soughing through the branch above 

The solemn sounds that I so love, 

Oh Forests with your mighty shades, 

If I could dwell in thee? 

Far sweeter than your sunny glades 

Your melodies would be. 

You seem to whisper to the soul 

Of things to come, while ages roll; 

And then your solemn shadows cast 

That which reminds me of the past. 



30 ENCHANTING SOLITUDE. 

Such beauty by the hand of man 
Was never painted here; 
No earthly music ever can 
Like thee enchant the ear; 
The squirrel's chirp, the song of birds 
Are often mingled with your words; 
Amid your storms so wild and bleak 
You murmur words, lips cannot speak. 

Oh forest kings, why stretch your arms 

With all their threatening power? 

Why bear for me somany charms, 

As you above me tower? 

Oh, lovely, beauteous, forest trees. 

In coming years thy murmuring breeze, 

Vast solitudes to some so drear. 

May come, my fainting heart to cheer. 



COMING HOME. 31 



COMING HOME. 

Writen for the Home J ournal. — Dedicated to the boys of 
Company C. 

Yes, more than a year has passed away 

Since we bade our boys good-bye! 

And oh, how sad were the hearts that day 

And we need not tell you why. 

Ah, yes; they all looked brave and grand 

As we tried each one to cheer, 

And then as we clasped some dear one's hand 

The world to us looked so drear. 

We knew that many a storm would break 

And many a heart grow cold! 

That many never again would wake 

Inside of the parental fold. 

How could we tell if you or I 

Were the one's that would have to weep? 

That far away neath a Cuban sky 

A loved one might fall asleep. 



32 COM INC HOME. 



And many a heart is sad and drear 

For a dear familiar tone; 

And many a form to some one dear 

In a strange land sleeps alone! 

And this is life; for we never know 

When or where we have to fall; 

Thus we wept to see our dear boys go 

E'en to answer their country's call. 

But they're coming home and we are glad 

For those who are spared to come; 

Let us try to cheer though our hearts are sad 

At the sound of the beating drum! 

Let us make them think 'tis a gala day 

And feel they are home once more; 

The difiference in the time they marched away 

When in their hearts were the din of war. 



THE SONG OF LIFE. 35 



THE SONG OF LIFE. 

"I wandered forth alone," sang she. 

She sang it with a happy air. 
I wandered forth — the world seemed free — 

Yes, free and happy everywhere, 
As throbbing upward it arose 
Within that song no thought of woes. 

"I wandered forth," she sang again. 

Her voice had dropped some chord of glee, 
And had therein a pensive strain, 

So strangely sweet its melody. 
And fluttering like a frightened bird, 
The saddest I have ever heard. 

"I wandered forth," once more arose — 
Oh, wailing cry that leaves the heart 

And whispers of life's bitter woes 
In which each mortal bears a part; 

And pulsing with its bitter tears 

Wherein no thought of joy appears. 

''I wandered forth, "again she sings. 

She sang it sadly and alone. 
Was it the brush of angel wings 

That reach her by that silent stone? 
Or lists she to that strain of love 
That comes so softly from above? 



34 DEPARTED SCENES. 

DEPARTED SCENES. 

Some by-gone paths again I roam, 
(With heart then light and free) 

Once more within a dear old home 
Familiar sights I see. 

As dimly through a mist of tears, 
I'm peering down departed years! 

I see a long porch flower vined, 
A grove near by — the walnut trees; 
The place where loving forms reclined, 
The song of birds, the hum of bees. 

And as the gathering shadows fall, 
My heart doth all these scenes recall. 

I start to hear the mournful sigh ! 

Borne through the long departed years: 
The friends I've loved so young to die! 

Hath filled my life with bitter tears! 
The awe of being left alone 

The saddest that my heart hath known. 

Those dear old walls no more resound 
With merry laugh and pattering feet; 

The voices few that may be found 
To tell the story old but sweet 

But in the heart's remotest cell. 
Its sacred memories ever dwell! 

There is not a breath of perfumed air 

Or murmur of the breeze; 
But to my heart some relics bear 

Of old-time melodies! 
And yet I cannot bid depart 

Those treasures dear to mortal heart! 



LUCILLE. 35 



LUCILLE. 



There is not within earth's sunny bowers 

A fairer face ; 
There is not among earth's fairest flowers 

More perfect grace. 
That voice of music which essays 
A thankfuh-iess to all our praise. 

I read within those soft brown eyes 

Of sacred light; 
A wonderment that seems to rise 

In upward flight. 
A shadow as of angel wings 
On her sweet face so often clings. 

I pause while gazing at this flower 

Of earthly clay; 
Although so tiny great its power 

Our hearts to sway. 
We know those tiny dimpled hands 
Will move us at their least commands. 

How can we think that life is drear, 

When her sweet voice 
Comes to us with a loving cheer; 

Bids hearts rejoice. 
Such baby grace on earth to dwell 
And cast o'er us its magic spell! 

We ask that God send perfect light 

That we may guide 
This tiny floweret aright 

Whate'er betide. 
And when life's paths are all complete 
Her soul will be as pure and sweet. 



36 A DRY MOON 



A DRY MOON. 

How we love to hear the patter 
Of the rain drops as they scatter 
Refreshing showers everywhere, 
And sweetest music fills the air. 
E'en the little bees are humming 
But they see the new moon's coming 
And have not forgot the saying 
They will have to go a straying 

With their tiny little cup; 
For this month they plainly see 
Ther's no water for the bee, 
When 
the 
moon 
hangs 
up. 
While the flowers will be drying 
All their pretty blossoms dying; 
We will try not to despair 
As we wait in humble prayer, 
For the month to quickly pass 
And bring water to the grass, 
Flowers too will smile and nod; 
Like the pretty golden rod; 

And will gladly take a sup, 
They will hope to thirst no more 
As they oft have done before 
When 
the 
moon 
hangs 
up. 



TO COMPANY C. 37 



TO COMPANY C. 

We hear the drum and see them come 
With hearts that are brave and true; 
The President has called to arms, 
It came at night, like fire alarms. 
To our bonny boys in blue. 

How proud we feel, as with tears we kneel 
And pray that none may rue; 

May death — among the rest, we pray — 
Ne'er steal from out its ranks so gay 
One bonny boy in blue. 

How our hearts doth beat, at the tramp of feet, 
The pride of Tippecanoe; 

Our boys have marched from home away. 
And none will e'er forget the day 
Or the bonny boys in blue. 

Our country's call, hath charms for all. 
And comes not to the few; 

For the prayers of a nation strong 
Are going with our boys along, 
Our bonny bo>s in blue 

Boys, your gallant captain follow, 

Guard the flag, its folds so new; 

Defend your country, hearts so brave 
Deaths! means a patriot's grave. 

For the bonny boys in blue. 



38 TO COMPANY C. 



Then firmly stand, with steady hand, 

And we will pray for you; 

So when shot and shells are liying, 
The brave around you dying. 

To cheer the boys in blue. 

God speed the day, not far away, 
When no more we say adieu! 
And back into their native land, 
Welcome the patriotic band. 
Our bonny boys in blue. 



WHEN JOHNNIE COMES HOME. 39 



WHEN JOHNNIE COMES HOME. 

We are looking forward to the day 

When Johnnie comes marching home; 
/vnd liearts that were sad be light and gay 

When Johnnie comes marching home. 
And the lips that have refused to smie 
With music sweet will the hours begui'.e 
And laugh then at the soldiery style. 
When Johnnie comes marching honie. 

For many an eye with tears were dir.i 

When Johnnie marched awa3^; 
And the mists obscured the sight of him 

When Johnnie marched away; 
And many a bonny boy in blue 
With heart so brave and hopes so true 
With the journey of life is forever through 

Since Johnnie marched away. 

There's many a heart will be filled with joy, 

When Johnnie marches home; 
Many will gaze with pride on their soldier boy 

When Johnnie marches home. 
And many a heart with grief will ache 
That seems like the cross of life will break 
With the void of some absent dear one's sake! 

When Johnnie comes marching home. 



40 WHEN JOHNNIE COMES HOME. 



For in the years that will come and go 

When Johnnie marches home; 
There will be joy for some and for others woe 

When Johnnie marches home. 
Many will be taking their last long sleep 
Some in a soldier's grave and some in the deep 
For some must laugh while others must weep 

When Johnnie comes marching home. 



ANSWER TO DRYDEN'S "AH, HOW SWEET!" 41 



ANSWER TO DRYDEN'S "AH, HOW SWEET!" 

Ah, they say that love is sweet! 

Pure and true the heart's desire! 
Yet how far off we find defeat 

When encircled by its fire. 
But Dryden says " 'Tis sweeter far 
Than all other pleasures are ." ■ 

Yes, he says that lovers' sighs 

Do but gently heave the heart! 
Oft the anguish of the eyes 

Tell how deeply sank the dart; 
Then when "lovers lose their breath," 
How can it be an easy death? 

iVh, the bitter pangs that swell ! 

Ah, the hopes that oft are vain! 
Are these of "golden gifts" they tell? 

Or, are they too sincere of pain? 
Tell me if their price is more, 
Or less simple, than before?" 

Love, like spring-tides, full and high. 

Swells in every youthful heart; 
If the tide that sweeps them by 

Only true resolves impart. 
Then, ah, Dryden, we can sing 
Of love's pure sweet offering. 



42 OUR JUBILEE. 



OUR JUBILEE. 

We say, Hurrah! 'Tis corning. 

The great peace jubilee! 
While our lips seem ever hvimming, 

We have set fair Cuba free ! 
Once again request each other 

To repose our trust in Him; 
While we plead with every brother 

Keep your head above the swim. 

Let our hearts be just as gallant 

As the patriots of old; 
Let them find us just as valiant 

With our word as good as gold. 
We will think of those that perished 

In the struggle for the right, 

While our dead heroes are cherished, 
Shout for all who won the fight. 

For we deem our men the bravest 

Of all Laddies in the field; 
When the struggle seems the gravest 

Then they show they will not yield! 
As with shouts that seem victorious 

Rush they onward to the fray! 
Count they giving life but glorious 

If they win at close of day. 



OUR JUBILEE. 



Shall we hear the echoes flying 

To us from the fields afar; 
While they rush apast their dying 

Nothing seems their path to bar. 
Just to win for us the glory 

For which they left us here to wait; 
Left us here to tell the story 

When safe beyond the Golden Gate. 

Now we come, upon the altar 

Are our heroes dead and living! 
Though dim. our eyes we will not falter, 

For all joy is in the giving 
Raise you higher dear "Old Glory!" 

Far above the surging crowd; 
Let its dear folds tell the story 

Of which a nation is so proud. 



44 EVENING MUSINGS. 



EVENING MUSINGS. 

I sat by the quiet fireside 

And I watched its ruddy glow, 

For it brought to me sweet memories 
Of my childhood long ago. 

And my fancy wove sweet visions 

Within the firelight's glare, 
And I was among the children 

That were gayly playing there. 

And we played as the evening deepened 
Where the shadows did softly fall, 

And I heard again from the doorway 
Our mother's gentle call. 

And then as a brood we entered 
There, close by the hearthstone bright. 
For the logs held a charming rlory 
With their myriad figures each night. 

Still the songs of the kettle hannt me 
As the shadows that played on the wall. 

And the voices that sweetly linger 
Hath the dearest charms of ail. 

For I know that we ne'er shah gather 
As we did in the fireside's glow. 

In one unbroken circle 
While we dwell in this world below. 



THANKS OFFERING. 45 



THANKS OFFERING. 

Oh, Father, we unto Thee lift 
Our grateful hearts in prayer; 

We thank Thee for each loving gift 
And all Thy tender care. 

We thank Thee for the bounteous board, 

This day before us spread; 
We thank Thee, Father, King and Lord, 

For this, our daily bread. 

We thank Thee for the year that's past, 
Though many a heart so light 

Hath saddened in life's stormy blast, 
Since last Thanksgiving night. 

We thank Thee, Father, we are spared. 
And those we love are here; 

We knov/ that Thou for us hath cared. 
With this, a bounteous year. 

We thank Thee for life's little cares, 
For dark days and for bright; 

We thank Thee for its earnest prayers, 
This blest Thanksgiving night. 

We ask Thee, Father, Lord and King, 

Life's drifting boat to guide. 
That we may all our treasures bring 

Safe through the surging tide. 

And when, at last, the shore we reach. 

With Paradise in sight. 
We'll thank Thee on that heavenly beach 

For each Thanksgiving night. 



46 WHY I'M SADDEST WHEN I SING. 



WHY I'M SADDEST WHEN I SING. 

How bright outside the sun doth shine, 

How soft the breezes blow; 
As to this longing heart of mine 

Drift sweets of long ago! 
Sad memories their shadows fling, 
That is why I'm saddest when I sing. 

There is borne to me upon the breeze 

Dear voices that are still. 
How strangely sweet old melodies 

The yearning heart doth thrill; 
To dead boquets such fragrance cling — 
That is why I'm saddest when I sing. 

Once more I stand beside a stream, 

Its rippling waters flow; 
I watch the pebbles brightly gleam, 

Its banks with beauty glow. 
With music sweet a voice doth ring — 
That is why I'm saddest when I sing. 

Why pathways lie so far apart, 

And loved ones go before; 
Tendrils that cling around the heart 

For those we see no more! 
With every year some sorrows bring — 
That is why I'm saddest when I sing. 

Then life, wnth all your bitter tears. 

With all your joy and pain; 
Why tarry with your future years? 

They seem so sad and vain! 
And death to some can have no sting — 
That is why I'm saddest when I sing. 



CUPID'S GAME. 47 



CUPID'S GAME. 
Cupid smiled, and with decision 

Brought his bow to play, 
When he saw a fairy vision 

Just across the way. 
Many happy hours he lingered, 

\¥here the brooklets smile. 
Sweet as music, fairy fingered. 

He the hours beguile. 
Cupid sends his tiny arrow 

Into the hearts of stone. 
When we think that each to-morrow 

We shall live alone. 
Then will come this tiny stranger. 

With his noiseless tread. 
And before we think of danger, 

Love will reign instead. 

Cuoid, Cupid, bring your sorrow. 

Bring you joy or pain? 
In the hearts that grief don't borrow, 

Why seek you to reign? 
Oft you come when life is fair 

To us as light of day; 
Then you leave us in despair, 

With your smiles so gay. 

Cupid, Cupid, will you barken 

To what I have said? 
Come where life you will not darken, 

And joy will reign instead. 
Love for all is pure and holy. 

Where it ever brings 
Joy unto the high or lowly. 

For of love the angels sings. 



48 THE SONG UNSUNG. 



THE SONG UNSUNG. 

Was there ever a song that was left unsung 
But that some time a note was heard? 

Like an echo faint that hath softly clung 
When the heart to its depths was stirred. 

Like some music sweet the heart doth thrill 

With its soft responsive tune; 
As the plantive cry of the whip-poor-will 

In the early nights of June. 

When the voice of love doth whisper low 

And all of the world seems fair; 
For love is a balm for all wounds we know 

And a chaser away of care. 

And the note is touched that hath laid so long 

In the place where it longs to rest; 
'Tis only a chord of the wonderful song 

Buried so deep in the breast. 

And we vainly try again to recall 

The sound so sweet to the ear; 
But the wailing moan like the winds of fall 

Are the sounds that we seem to hear. 

Yet into our lives some magical touch 

Will make it vibrate once more; 
Why those mystical fingers our heart strings clutch 

We shall know on that beautiful shore. 



WHY IS IT THUS? 49 



WHY IS IT THUS? 

I know not why this discontent 
Will oh! so often come to me; 

I only know I try in vain 
To fathom it — it cannot be. 

I know not why my longing heart 
Doth often ask for sweet release. 

Unless beyond this vale of tears 
It seems to know is perfect peace. 

'Tis when the storm winds fiercest howl, 
And when the angry thunders roar 

Life's disappointments come to me 
And oft I yearn for heaven's shore. 

As I stand beside a babbling stream, 
And murmuring waters sweetly thrill, 

Oft comes some strange, uncanny sound 
Its soothing touch to vaguely chill. 

'Tis often in the sweetest dream 
Is wafted an unpleasant tone, 

Then suddenly my heart awakes, 
The phantom loveliest hath flown. 

The floweret I most have loved 
Hath faded with a passing breath 
And loved ones I have held so dear 
The earliest sought by angel death. 



50 FAIR WEEK. 



FAIR WEEK. 

We watch the glamor everywhere 
The hall resplendent glows; 

Music and laughter fill the air 
For everybody knows 

That all life's cares are thrown aside 

From all directions, walk or ride. 
While going to the fair. 

'Tis for this week that many dare 

Some pleasure to discard; 
That hearts forlorn may have a share 

No joys they may retard; 
But to the brim and running o'er 
Such happiness as ne'er before 

While they are at the fair. 

From every way we turn the glare 

Of joy and beauty beams; 
The halls with decorations rare 

As gorgeously gleams. 
We've thrown every care away 
For once we live just for a day 

And this is at the fair. 

Each face has lost that look of care 
As something new appears; 

Whate'er tomorrow it may wear 
This day is one that cheers. 

Then let us smile and happy be 

Life's brightest side we'll try and see 
While we are at the fair. 



FAIR WEEK. 51 



For in our minds oh let us bear 
Another year in the race of life 

Upon whose records there has ne'er 
One mark been made with all its strife, 

Will have to pass and all may know 

Some hours of joy, some hours of woe 
Before another fair. 



52 "SYMPATHY." 



"SYMPATHY." 

(To the Friends and Relatives of the late Owen M. Craig.) 
We haste to bring thee all we can, 

Our hearts own sympathy and tears. 
As we gaze across life's narrow span, 
We see at most a few brief years. 
But when death's icy lips had kissed 

And brought to us its deepest grief. 
Hath borne a loved one from our midst 
Then sympathy brings no relief. 
And yet, and yet, how oft we feel 
That heart to heart will steal. 

We stand all silent near the place 

Where thou art bowed in deepest woe. 

Our heart in longing pity trace 

And seem to feel its pang you know. 

Yet "Jesus wept" oh! changeless love! 
"Come unto me all ye that mourn!" 

Thy sorrows reach the vaults above; 

' He too hath earthly trials borne. 
And then, and then a solemn calm, 
That soothes us like a healing balm. 

We know the grave seems dark and drear. 

And oh! how changed om* lives shall be 
No more that voice we loved to hear, 

'Till we meet o'er life's unresting sea. 
Our thoughts called suddenly from earth 

"The heart is where its treasure are," 
Awakened love. Of wondrous birth, 

And grief is oft our guiding star. 
And love, such love as Jesus gave. 
Brightens the dark and silent grave. 



SHALL IT BE DEATH OR VICTORY. 53 

SHALL IT BE DEATH OR VICTORY. 

We know some of the bonny boys in blue 

Have reached the Cuban soil, 
We know they're pressing hard the foe 

Nor will they yield the spoil. 
Around them unfamiliar scenes 

And cruel Spanish arms before, 
But they are anxious for the fray 

As they reach fair Cuba's shore. 

They think not of the life to give 

For our boys are brave and true; 
They only ask for victory 

To the bonny boys in blue. 
No doubt their minds doth homeward turn 

With many a longing sigh; 
But they're struggling for a brother's right 

And will win the goal or die. 

Then let us in our closets go, 

And in the silence pray; 
"Our Father" to protect our boys 
In their struggles far away. 

For we know that they are falling 

By the missies one, by one; 
And we can only wait and pray 

Until their work is done. 



54 SHALL IT BE DEATH OR VICTORY. 



"Seek rather to be a free man," 

God's Prophets said of old; 
That is why we fight for Cuba 

With our boys in blue so bold. 
That from the starving nation , 

Bound by the tryants chain; 
That we shall give a free man's right 

To the servants of cruel Spain. 

May God deliver Hobson, 

From out the tyrants cell; 
For in the days of olden 

Other prison doors have fell. 
The blue and gray are folded 

In one clinging embrace; 
And together send their children, 

A foreign foe to face. 

Their prayers are united, 

Their tears together fall; 
The sword that strikes a boy in blue 

Will reach the hearts of all. 
And while we pray for victory 

Upon the battle field; 
We will ask God to protect our boys 

With His almighty shield. — 



LINES TO STEPHEN A. BAER. 55 



LINES TO STEPHEN A. BAER. 

To thee life's morning sun went down 

When at its brightest glow; 
Exchanged its crosses for the crown 

Where peaceful rivers flow; 
Just when life's day was fair to thee, 
You passed beyond the silent sea. 

You left your weeping friends behind 

Their loss, your greatest gain; 
On that eternal plain you find 

Those of the kindred train. 
For oh; such joy earth ne'er can see 
As when thy mother welcomed thee. 

And once again thy face appears 
With its cheerful smiles of yore; 

For thee no more are earthly tears, 
Thy sufferings all are o'er. 

Was it thy mother's beckoning hand 

That called thee to the spirit land? 

"Yes, one by one they are gathering Home' 

The dear ones that were here; 
As of old, no more we see them roam 

Those that our heart's held dear! 
But why such bitter tears to weep? 
We know that thou are just asleep. 



56 LINES TO STEPHEN A. BAER. 



And thus we try and still the pain, 

The parting is not for long; 
For soon upon the heavenly plain 

We will join the mighty throng! 
Where no parting comes, no sorrows know 
And rivers of joy forever flow. 



IN MEMORY OF LUTHER HUDLOW. 57 



IN MEMORY OF LUTHER HUDLOW. 

Oh! when you said good-by, and smiled, 
Too quick the hours that time beguiled 

Bore thee toward the tomb! 
But little do we ever know 
How soon will fall death's sudden blow, 

To fill our hearts with gloom. 

Yes; 'twas the cruel wheels that crushed, 
And to our ears forever hushed 

The voice we loved to hear! 
' Say, did you think one last good by. 
Or did your spirit quickly fly 

Home to our mother dear? 

Oh! had we only bade thee stay, 

Or knew that death lurked in thy way; 

But God knows all things best! 
Thy call may bring with swifter feet, 
Our loved ones to make Heaven complete, 

And find eternal rest. 

Away, toward that Heavenly land 
We find another beckoning hand, 

That calls from earth away. 
It murmurs, life is but a thread. 
To death's cold touch all bow the head. 

For earthly things decay. 



58 IN MEMORY OF LUTHER HUDLOW. 



Oh! will you let that brother's voice 
Call unto thee, make Heaven your choice 

To all his heart held dear! 
Where safe within our fatherland, 
We take no more the parting hand, 

Nor weep the bitter tear. 



CHRIST'S MISSION HERE. 59 



CHRIST'S MISSION HERE. 

We stood in the Tabernacle 

And we viewed the swaying throng; 
And we knew that God had given 

Them wonderful power of song! 
And we heard the minister telling 

The parable of the "ninety and nine;" 
And the Savior then was searching 

For the sheep and not the swine. 

He said it was the gravest notion 

That the churches had today; 
For to seek the pure and Holy 

And leave the sinner go astray, 
And he said, if this book is Gospel 

And the words inside are true; 
'"Tis the sick who need the Physician" 

Ah; the many; and not the few. 

And when he told the story 

Of the Christian so unconcerned; 

It seemed a fire from heaven 

In the soul's of many burned. 
Then he spoke of the tramp who wandered 

Through the slums of the filthy street; 
And of the dear ones who were waiting 

For the sound of his coming feet. 



6o CHRIST'S MISSION HERE. 



And he wondered how he doubted 

That God gave His only Son! 
To seek His poor lost children 

That were straying everyone; 
And no doubt in that far off city 

The Angels with listening ear! 
Lent to the voice of His Servant 

All His inspiration here — 



VOICES FROM THE OTHER SHORE. 6i 



VOICES FROM THE OTHER SHORE. 

-Vs I sit tonight and ponder, on the years that's passed away, 
They always draw nearer at the closing of the day, 
My heart hath many longings, as the shadows deeper grow, 
For they seem so full of visions, of the loved of long ago. 

Is it strange as I am musing, when the shadows softly fall. 
That I hear so oft the voices, from the past distinctly call? 
And I start me oft and listen, to the dear remembered words. 
While my heart is strangely throbbing, like the fluttering of 
birds. 

Tell me from the misty silence, that you've not forgotten me; 
For my heart has been so lonely since you crossed the silent 

sea! 
Tell me when the shadows deepen, and my heart is sad and 

lone; 
If those voices low and tender, whisper, are you coming 

home? 

While the forms that rise before me, in the future years I see. 
As across my path they hover, will bring many joys to me; 
And the dear sweet faces vanished, in the past so long ago, 
Will bring back with strange distinctness all life's sweets as 
well as woe. 

For I feel that they are guarding all the paths of life I tread. 

When the clouds are hanging lowest to the bursting over- 
head. 

Then it seems from out the shadows something sweeps them 
all away. 

And I see a sudden glory, like the brightness of the day. 



62 VOICES FROM THE OTHER SHORE. 



And I feel such peace in trusting as the dear ones did of yore, 
For I know that Hfe's great sorrows all will end on heaven's 

shore. 
There beside the crystal river, where the pearly gates will 

gleam, 
We will meet to knov*^ that heaven is fairer than we dared to 

dream. 



WHAT WOULD THEY TELL US. 63 



WHAT WOULD THEY TELL US. 

Ah, the winds again are blowing, with their whispers soft and 

low 
As they speak of time that's going, and how soon will fall the 

snow! 
Oh, do they try and tell us, what the winter hours will bring. 
And would their stories quell us, if we understood the things? 

And would we look in wonder, at all we have to bear? 
Or would we only blunder, on the road to our despair? 
Ah, the winds are softly sighing, as they press against the 

pane, 
And the leaves begin their dying, all their struggles seem in 

vain. 

Then the forest we'll discover, with its red, and brown and 

gold; 
Where so oft the straying lover tells the story sweet and old! 
When the winter winds are nipping all the flowers in the dell, 
Then we find the children skipping, to the music of the bell. 

Then, dear winds, what are you bringing, with your murmurs 

soft and low? 
Do you know that you are singing of the sweets of long ago? 
When so oft I hear you moaning, through the branches of 

the trees; 
Then my poor heart seems a-groaning with the old-time 

memories. 



64 WHAT WOULD THEY TELL US. 



Yet I would not have you falter, with whatever you may 

bring. 
All 3^our tidings cannot alter, when apast life's rosy spring. 
Oft I hope when I am dying, through the branches of the 

trees, 
I will hear you softly sighing, filled with old-time melodies. 



TIME MAKES ALL THINGS PLAIN. 65 

TIME MAKES ALL THINGS PLAIN. 

I know not what will come to me 

In future years; 
I know oftimes when I dimly see 

Some hope appears; 
And this I know, there yet must be 

Some blinding tears. 

Ah, future with your veiled face 

And alluring smile; 
How oft we try and in you trace 

Some fairy isle; 
Say, have you not some resting place 

That hours beguile? 

And this I feel, 'tis sweet to know 

Love's blissful dream; 
For sure the tide will come and go 

And pebbles gleam; 
But there is joy for every woe 

Upon its stream. 

Then sail away with happy smile 

Upon its breast; 
Let contentment mark life's every mile — 
Trust the rest; 
When love and faith the hours beguile, 

How richly blest. 



66 CONSOLATION. 



CONSOLATION. 

Something for thee, to prove I am true. 
Something to cover the vastness of years; 

Soothing to thee as the morning dew. 
Covering the earth with refreshing tears. 

Something to cool the fevered brow. 
Something to still thine aching heart; 

Then let me whisper, how dear art thou! 
As I wait for the time we ne'er shall part. 



LINES TO NELLIE BECK. 67 



LINES TO NELLIE BECK. 

Dear Nellie! Life's brief day is o'er, 

And thou art blest! 
Upon that brighter, better shore, 

Is perfect rest! 
When last we met and said good-bye, 

Life's fondest hopes to thee were fair! 
We little dreamed beyond the sky 

Our meeting next was "over there." 

How perfect was your life's brief day 

While ling'ring here! 
How short on earth has been thy stay 

To us so dear! 
Life's greatest joys foreshadow oft 

That which our hearts but hold in dread! 
Its deepest griefs it bears aloft 

And bursts relentless o'er the head. 

The bitter tears that fall in vain 

Can ne'er recall! 
Our loss means thy eternal gain, 

They still must fall! 
For O! this aching void you've left 

Cries unto God for perfect sight! 
We know his hand hath us bereft 

His hand can give us endless light. 



68 DEAR HEART. 



DEAR HEART. 

The day it was surpassing fair, 

Dear heart. 
Soon darkness covered everywhere, 

Dear heart. 
With many joys my heart did thrill. 
But even-tide brought sudden chill; 
I try and bow me to His will, 

Dear heart ,dear heart. 

Oh! shall I see thee nevermore. 

Dear heart? 
Until we meet on heaven's shore, 

Dear heart? 
The world moves on as though for me 
'Twas joy to be away from thee. 
Through blinding tears I try to see, 

Dear heart, dear heart. 

The pitiless moon looks from above, 

Dear heart, 
All smiling o'er the things you love, 

Dear heart. 
And while I know all tears are vain. 
There comes to me this sad refrain — 
On earth we ne'er shall meet again! 

Dear heart ,dear heart. 



DEAR HEART. 69 



The years that pass our lives between, 

Dear heart; 
The saddest I have ever seen, 

Dear heart. 
Though we shall meet on earth no more, 
A voice returns from heaven's shore, 
And whispers life will soon be o'er! 

Dear heart ,dear heart. 



70 MARY KYLE DALLAS. 



MARY KYLE DALLAS. 

Yes, we miss thee, dear, sad hearted, 

Miss thee with thy tales of love; 
Miss thee since thy soul departed 

For thy better home above. 
Every picture thou hast painted 

In this land that we call life; 

We behold a face now sainted! 

Free at last from earthly strife. 

Life, too, wove its webs about thee, 

Gave thee both of joy and pain; 
We who read could never doubt thee. 

Your portrayals were so plain. 
Long, long years we've read the stories, 

Signed by Mary Kyle Dallas. 
In your place another glories 

Sadly, with no thought of malice. 

Reading oft our eyes will wander 

O'er the paper for thy name! 
Then thoughts sojourn over yonder 

Beyond earth's fitful smiles of fame. 
Yet we loved thee, dearly loved thee, 
All thy readers who have known, 
From the web fate hung above thee. 
Wove thee life, so like our own. 



APRIL GLOOM. 71 



APRIL GLOOM. 

Outside the world is cold and drear, 

The sky above doth frown, 
The moaning winds fall on the ear. 

And slow the rain comes down; 
The very earth seems to partake 
Its share, nor even care to shake 

The spell that o'er it falls. 

The sun beyond the clouds may shine 

When hid its smiling face, 
And hearts of men that will repine 

Find no true resting place; 
And so we find that awful spell 
Of solitude o'er all hath fell — 

Whose gloom appalls. 

Oh! April day; oh! April showers; 

Why bury hearts so deep in gloom? 
Bring you for us no sunny hours, 

Or just reminder of the tomb? 
Can you not bring some word of cheer 
To warm the hearts you've made so drear; 

Or care you for the pain? 

Ah! April day, your wind and showers 

Ere long will in the past be laid; 
And song of birds and scent of flowers 

Cast back the gloom your storm slouds made. 
And hearts that now are cold and drear 
Will list with an enraptured ear 

To catch the joyful strain. 



72 THE VOICE OF LOVE. 

THE VOICE OF LOVE. 

How can I say I do not care, 
That we have said a last farewell? 

Perhaps some others love he'll share, 
Or sweets to other ears will tell. 

But like some faint, imperfect dream, 
Across my heart there often falls 

A halo like a golden gleam — 

A voice that to me sweetly calls. 

I start to hear the gentle sound, 
That comes so strangely back to me 
And reaches to a buried wound 

I thought unearthed could never be. 

But, oh! I find it is not so, 

Though hushed it be for many years! 
It rises with its silent woe. 

Buried so long with bitter tears. 

A hand that reaches from the past, 
And oft so warmly clasps my own; 

A voice that in my heart — at last 
I find no other can dethrone. 

Tell me, is this the hand of Fate, 
That bids our pathways lie apart? 

And asks that I must watch and wait 
With bitter tears and aching heart? 

Our Father, tells me, is it best 
That we should ever parted be? 
And at life's close, oh, is there rest? 
If so, i trust it all with Thee. 



A WINTER SCENE. 73 



A WINTER SCENE. 

I gaze me forth this silent night, 

How high the snow hath drifted! 
The earth is robed in spotless white, 
Can aught be fairer to the sight 
Than this bright glow of perfect light 
Wherin the gloomy earth's made bright 

By myraid white flakes sifted? 

And still they are falling, one by one. 

Those tiny flakes so silently; 
We cannot hear them as they come, 
Nor like the little bees that hum, 
Fill the air with noise as well as gum. 
And still they make a greater sum. 

Falling so slow and quietly. 

How dear to our hearts the pure white snow, 

With memories, too, of sadness; 
It brings to our minds the long, long ago. 
When the earth was new in its beautiful glow. 
And our cup of joy would oft overflow; 
How little we thought time would ever go slow, 

So perfect it seemed in its gladness. 

But the snow, as years, will soon pass away. 

And earth look desolate, dreary; 
Soon only the slush, where the pure snow lay. 
And we sigh for the things so soon to decay. 
As the flowers that bloom and fade with the day, 
So the things of this life is only as clay. 

Is it strange the heart grows weary? 



74 A WINTER SCENE. 

But at last we know there cometh an hour, 

Our hearts will be happy and free; 
When from the hand of our king we receiveth a dower, 
And the blessing of God will fall like a shower, 
And whiter than snow that heavenly bower. 
Nor ever such sweets from earth's fairest flower, 

As ours through eternity. 



IF WE WOULD ONLY TRUST. 75 

IF WE WOULD ONLY TRUST. 

There is little in this vale of tears, 

But bitterness and pain; 
The aching heart, the hope and fears 

Are suffered all in vain; 
And yet, and yet there's One we know 

That careth for our every woe. 

The morning light breaks soft, the air 

Fans the heated brow; 
The slumbering world looks strangely fair 

But hearts are aching now! 
And none, and none may know the pain 

But him, to whom none cry in vain. 

• 

How beautiful, calm and serene. 

The solemn shades of night; 
But Oh! the hearts that break, between 

Its gloaming, and its light! 
The Eye, the Eye that never sleeps 

Will guard His children here that weeps 

And Oh! so oft we wonder why 

This bitter pain is ours; 
As days and weeks, and years go by 

Thorns, instead of flowers; 
'Tis He, 'tis He that knoweth best 

As we shall find when cometh rest 

But Oh! we cannot help but ask 

When with deep sorrow tossed; 
Why some can in life's sunshine bask 

When all our hopes are lost? 
If we, if we could feel and know 

That these things pain our Savior so! 



76 IF WE WOULD ONLY TRUST. 

We would be content to say, dear Lord 
Thy blessed will be done! 

We will lean on Thee; and trust thy word, 
Who gave thine only Son, 

For all ! for all who trust in Thee 
He'll know the best for you and me. 



THE JOYS OF SPRING. 77 



THE JOYS OF SPRING. 

The spring puts forth her robe of green 

The birds as sweetly sing; 
And from the hilltops may be seen 

Gay evidence of spring. 
We see no more the robe of white 

Nor hear the chilly blast; 
For each new beauty now in sight 

Whispers that winters past. 

And how we hail earth's cheerfulness 

After the cold and sleet; 
The tongue and heart together bless 

Those hours of sacred sweet. 
The fiowers will soon put forth their bloom 

While across the fields we walk; 
And will scent the orchard's sweet perfume 

And view the Hollyhock. 

Ah! mingling evidence that praise 

The wonderful works of God! 
That whispers in so many ways 

How fair this earth we trod. 
While lingering by the rippling stream 

How strangely to the ear; 
Its music like some by-gone dream, 

Falls softly, sweet and clear. 



78 THE JOYS OF SPRING. 

Then birds awake your joyful notes 

All nature sweetly sing; 
And from the million happy throats 

Hail! Hail! the breath of spring. 
And from the hilltop and the plain 

May songs of praise arise; 
Until the glad triumphant strain 

Burst the gates of paradise! 



THE MONTH OF ROSES. 79 



THE MONTH OF ROSES. 
The morning breaks with gladness; 

The birds as sweetly sing. 
There seems no note of sadness 

In this last month of spring, 
But, like some faint responsive tune. 
Thy fragrant breath, sweet month of June. 

The dew drops linger on the trees, 

While soft the breezes blow; 
And all thy tuneful melodies 

Bring back the long ago! 
And softly to our heart discloses 
That June is still the month for roses. 

The month of May has passed away 

And July must follow after; 
But the month between is ever gay 

And thrills the heart with laughter. 
Ah, yes, in June our faith reposes; 
We love thee best, O month of roses! 

We love to stray in woddlands green 
With the bright blue sky above us; 

And the wonderful space that swings between 
And the eyes that watch and love us! 

What beautiful scenes around thee closes 

With memories sweet, O month of roses! 

Oh, we would have thee linger long 

With thy sweet roses blowing; 
For in our hearts like some sweet song 

Thou hast been daily growing; 
Yet your first day's birth the last exposes; 
Soon we'll say good-by, month of roses. 



8o BRING FLOWERS FOR ALL. 



BRING FLOWERS FOR ALL. 

We've seen them on the battle field, 

We've seen them on the plain; 
We've seen them with their sword and shield 

And in the cavalry train, 
With step so firm and heart so true 

They held the foe at bay; 
We're speaking of the boys in blue 

And the bonny boys in grey. 

We know just how our country's call 

Thrilled every soul that heard; 
'Twas echoed in the hearts of all 

Each patriot's soul was stirred. 
They thought not of long years away, 

Nor if some would live to rue; 
Patriotic hearts inside the grey 

And patriotic in the blue. 

The long, long years have gone so fast 

That heard our victorious shout! 
Again we hear the bugle's blast 

That calls for "muster out;" 
And oh, how many came that day 

Their glory for to renew? 
Silence answered to some names in grey, 

And silence to some in blue. 



BRING FLOWERS FOR ALL. 8i 



Then bring your flowers all damp with tears, 

Tread Hght on hallowed ground! 
Recall the memories of other years. 

And brighten each lowly mound! 
We know that some lie far away, 

Whose hearts were brave and true; 
Not all the flowers for the grey, 

For new heroes sleep in the blue! 



82 THE DYING YEAR. 



THE DYING YEAR. 

The old year passes from our sight 
And whispers low, a soft good-night. 
Its wild waves lash against the shore 
And murmurs low--forevermore! 
Good-night! 

God-night! Good-night, with joyful ring, 
We heralded thine opening, 
But hands that clasp the old latch-key 
Now whisper sad and solemnly; 
Good-night! 

We turned with tender yearning eyes, 
When lit with dawn your eastern skies. 
But with a strange heart rending sigh 
We gather round to see you die! 
Good-night! 

Good night! Good night! for this must be 
While sailing o'er life's troubled sea. 
Ah, yes all down life's span of years 
Is ever mingled with its tears; 
Good-night! 

But now your first inspiring breath 
Is frosty with the chill of death! 
Far out into the midnight air 
We hear you breathe your dying prayer; 
Good-night! 

Good-night! You brought us joy and tears, 
Sweet hope, that casteth out all fears! 
Ring sadly, bells! Our last adieu! 
Dear old year! Good night! then to the New 
Hail! Morning light! 



LEARN OF BIRDS. 83 



LEARN OF BIRDS. 

Little birdie in the tree, 
With your songs of melody, 
And a heart so light and free- 
Have you not a care? 
Often from your tiny throat 
Such sweet music to us fioat, 
With its joyous, happy note, 

Light as summer air. 
Yet there seemeth not a care. 
Though your little feet are bare. 
See thes snowflakes in the air? 

Fear you not the storm? 
Little birdie, do you know, 
Far above the sleet and snow 
There is watching here below 
One who keeps you warm? 
Birdie, may I learn of thee 
That sweet trust wherein I see 
Peace, joy and contentment be; 

May I, birdie, say? 
Then some day when thou art flown 
And I am sitting all alone, 
When my heart your peace hath known 

Bless you far away. 
Oh, how oft my heart is stirred 
By the songs of singing bird! 
Sweeter music ne'er was heard. 

Are you never tired? 
Then, dear birdie, sweetly sing. 
Sacred memories you bring, 
Fragrant as the breath of spring, 
With your songs inspired. 



84 MAKE THE HOME A SACRED PLACE. 



MAKE THE HOME A SACRED PLACE. 

It's the home that makes the woman, 
And the home that makes the man. 
In the home forever cherish. 
All the loving light you can; 
When we hear the sound of music 
Floating softly to the ear, 
Little do we dream the conflicts 
In the souls of some that hear. 

While before some ever rises. 
All the disappointed years; 
With the golden opportunities 
Buried neath life's bitter tears. 
Did you ever sit in silence 
While some soft, sweet music played? 
Note you e'er the heart's emotion 
That its cadence oft hath made? 

While the forms of those you've cherished 
In the happy years that's gone, 
Seem to hover all about you, 
Brings again life's early dawn! 
When we see a tiny infant 
With its strangely magic spell, 
Think you e'er perhaps an angel 
In that home hath come to dwell? 



MAKE THE HOME A SACRED PLACE. 85 



Make the home so bright and happy, 
Give it sacred ties of joy; 
Then in years to come you'll furnish 
Thoughts of Heaven to girl or boy. 
Then when music thrills so tender 
Or some sweet voiced bird is singing. 
E'en the patter of the rain drops, 
All, their sacred thoughts are bringing. 

Yes, the thoughts of home will linger 
With its distant sounds of cheer; 
Oh, how oft across life's pathway 
Will its sacred lights appear! 
Once again its peaceful slumber 
O'er our weary eyelids roam; 
As once more its joys we herald 
For asleep we dream of home. 

Tell me, when the heart is hungry 
With life's bitterness and pain, 
What will still its wild emotion, 
What will give it rest again? 
It is that which ne'er will perish, 
Though in distant lands we roam; 
'Tis to view once more in silence 
All the blessed scenes of home. 



86 LIGHT AND LOVE. 



LIGHT AND LOVE. 

Light and Love one summer day- 
Met me just over life's darkened way. 
Light it smiled and was wont to say: 
Love it faltered and was wont to say: 

"If I could always bask in your beautiful glow 

I feel that astray I never would go." 

Light could not smile at what he had done, 
But said: "It is warmth I caught from the sun. 
While I cast the glow over you only for fun, 
I fain from he mischief gladly would run, 

But I can never leave you in this dark hour of woe 

Unless some sympathy. Love, I bestow. 

"I know of the dangers that lie just ahead. 
And hear of the joy where my glory is shed; 
But when a poor heart discontentment hath fed, 
Who can there but me rob him of his l)ed? 

Look up, Love, and smile, then bid darkness fly. 

You will find many friends as happy as I." 

And after that day Love's beautiful smile 
O'er the rich and poor on life's sunny isle 
Brought joy or sadness, and all of the while 
Kept singing a love-tune in travelling each mile: 
"Where darkness would linger, oh, bid him begone, 
For the dark hour is always ere the brightness of dawn. 



FATE'S CRUEL HANDS. S7 



FATE'S CRUEL HANDS. 

How can I e'er forget that day 

When sitting by his side? 
Those hours have passed for e'er away, 

As that last buggy ride. 

How can I e'er forget his face 
So strangely pained and white? 
I sat by him with careless grace. 
Yet lingering still the sight. 

He said I did not seem to care, 

Nor will he ever know 
That in my heart still lingers there 

His look of deepest woe. 

Nor why it was I could not speak 
Of all within my soul; 
Why suddenly my heart grew weak 
And words beyond control. 

His pale face oft-times haunts me still 

Through all the passing years; 
I wonder if his pulses thrill 
When thoughts of me appear? 

I know now that he loved me well, 

How different to me then! 
It seemed like some strange magic spell 

Cast o'er the best of men. 

But now, alas! he will never know 

How oft I am by his side 
As I recall that long ago 

And our last buggy ride. 



88 FATE'S CRUEL HANDS. 



Nor, oh! how oft fates cruel hands 
Our lips will strangely seal! 
And when apart in distant lands 
Their bitter truths reveal. 



MY DARK-EYED ENGINEER. 89 

MY DARK-EYED ENGINEER. 

There comes to me, sometimes in dreams, 

A deep-toned voice I love to hear; 
And in my heart, like radiant gleams, 

So soft and low, yet deep and clear, 
'Tis of a dark-eyed engineer. 

The years go by, but now and then 

That voice returns unto my ear; 
And I compare with other men. 

And find that none can be so dear 
As he, my dark-eyed engineer, 

Ah!years that's passing on and on, 

To some bring hope, to some the bier! 

At last to some all hopes are gone; 
To us, will they bring joy or fear? 
To us, my dark-eyed engineer. 

And life may bring me what it will. 

For life's not what it may appear; 
Yet through my heart will often thrill 

A voice with all its weight of cheer; 
'Tis from thy lips, my engineer. 

And when those grave eyes look at me. 

My heart is like a frightened deer; 
But I can only wait for thee. 

Let that prove far or that prove near — 
I wiat, my dark-eyed engineer. 



90 THE ROBIN. 



THE ROBIN. 

I hear the robin red-breast, 

A singing in the trees; 
He says once more the spring is here, 

As gayly as you please. 
He says I hail the summer time 

With all its threatening showers; 
And all the changes it may bring, 

I'll sing among the flowers. 

He says when winter comes I hush 

My songs to others sing; 
But once again my notes awake 

The coming of the spring. 
For e'er the springtime warmth is felt, 

Or trees with green are drest; 
They say I hear the cheery note 

Of sir robin, with red breast.^ 

And then they cry, Oh robin dear. 

We welcome you again; 
You come with all your merry song 

To cheer the hearts of men. 
Thrice welcome robin red-breast. 

We love to hear you sing; 
Then let your notes resound afar 

The coming of the spring. 



THE ROBIN. 91 



We greet thee, robin, robin dear, 

With all your songs so sweet; 
We would miss thee from the merry throng 

That makes the spring complete. 
Then robin while you're with us here 

Fill every note with glee; 
Your songs that welcome back to life. 

The dew drop and the bee. 

When winter storms are in the sky. 

You go from us away; 
And we must wait your coming then 

For many a weary day. 
Then let us hear your happy song, 

O, robin red breast, sing! 
For Oh, there mingles with your notes 

The cheerful sounds of spring. 

We are never tired robin, 

To hear your joyful song; 
We only wish dear robin 

To hear them all year long. 
But when the heavens darken. 

With the snowflakes in the sky; 
Once more to robin red-breast 

We will have to say, good-bye. 



92 TWO PAIR OF HANDS. 



TWO PAIR OF HANDS. 

Yes' in the dimness of the past, my grandmother's face I see, 
But Hke the joys too sweet to last, in childhood's hour so 

free; 
'Twas in those youthful happy hours, that my dear grandma 

died, 
And from this life of thorn and flowers, passed to the other 

side. 

But dear grandma you gave to me a gem worth more than 

gold, 
As in the coming years I see, its precious gifts unfold; 
As in those happy childhood days, I gazed upon your face, 
I little dreamed in all life's ways, I would their beauty trace. 

Oft, dimly from that heavenly home, I see thy beckoning 

hand 
I know that I am not alone, but watched from spirit land; 
Dear grandmama how blest to know that thou wert pure and 

true. 
And when I from this life shall go, that lean follow you. 

'Tis bliss to know two pair of hands, hath all my life sustained 
One pair reach from the golden strands one pair on earth re- 
mained; 
Grandmother's hand will beckon me toward that better shore. 
And a talisman my mothers be, to guide my frail bark o'er. 



PAST, PRESENT, FUTURE. 93 

PAST. PRESENT, FUTURE. 

We gaze on the lowering morning skies, 

Was it tear-drops fell like rain? 
It seemed a nation's tear-dimmed eyes 
Wept our hero's o'er again. 
We wonder if 'tis for the dead, 
Or those to fall, the tears are shed. 

vSIeep on! Sleep on! Ye hero's brave! 

Your work was faithfully done; 
You sleep within an honored grave , 
Your lives the victory won. 
And once again our country calls. 
And o'er our homes a shadow falls. 

Once more a nation doth awake 

At the cry for liberty! 
At this the bravest heart will ache, 
Answering, thou shalt be free! 
And mingled with the cry of pain 
A vision of the sinking Maine! 

At noon the sun did brightly shine 

As if the victory will be ours; 
In the coming year shall we entwine 
And scatter new made graves with flowers? 
Are the lives of those we love to be 
The gaining of this victory? 

"Our Father'' give us courage true 

That we may all our burdens bear; 
E'en though our own dear boys in blue 
A soldier's foreign grave may share, 
For Oh, we know beyond the skies. 
No heart will ache, no tear-dimmed eyes. 



94 PAST, PRESENT, FUTURE. 

Oh. help us send but words of cheer 

To those who have gone the foe to face; 
And say we pray to see them here 
Once more in their accustomed place. 
But bravely stand, sink neath the blow, 
Than yield the victory to the foe! 



WE CANNOT DO WITHOUT THEM. 95 



WE CANNOT DO WITHOUT THEM. 

They say we have not written 

With our pens that seem inspired 

Of our gallant boys and leaders , 
As if we ever tired 

To sing the praise of Dewey, 
x^nd our boys that bravely died, 

As though to discontinue 

We would e'er be satisfied. 

With all its graphic paintings, 

No pen could e'er portray 
Just one short moment's victory, 

Won on Manila bay; 
Or could our songs be echoed 

To the four ends of the earth. 
Would not give heroes of San Juan 
Glory of one brief moment's worth. 

There are hundreds of the victors. 

Of the leaders and the led, 
Whose praise will ne'er be ended 

'Till all patriots are dead; 
Though pen can never paint them. 

And tongue can never tell 
How victorious the struggle, 

And how brave our men that fell. 



96 WE CANNOT DO WITHOUT THEM. 



Oh, say, can we forget them. 

Who went at freedom's call? 
What is the glory of a pen sketch 

To the facing a cannon ball? 
But for the leaders and the followers 

We knelt in deepest prayer. 

When in the fiercest battles 

Our hearts were with them there. 

The winning of the victories. 

The closing of the war, 
Will prove a nation's prayer arose — 

Writing could do no more. 
But some new song will ever wake, - 

For our heroes that must lie, 
Away from all to them so dear. 

Beneath a Cuban sky. 

And tears that fall and hearts that ache, 

Through all life's coming years. 
Find but little consolation 

In the victory that cheers. 
But then, alas! we'll never know 

The glory of their fall, 
Until, with them, we answer to 

The last roll's brilliant call. 



TO HANNAH. 97 



TO HANNAH. 

Encircled by clouds of filmy lace 
I view a fair and happy face, 
All beautified by loving grace, 

On bridal morn; 
No sorrow in that glance we trace 
As gazing in life's future space, 

Love shall adorn. 

She wears no look of sadness there, 
With heart as light as summer air, 
Naught whispers in her ear — beware, 

For Cupid's dart. 
Too oft hath murmured love is faid, 
And folded closely in his snare 

Her trusting heart. 

With radiant hope the future gleams, 
As floating down its peaceful streams, 
Love's hallowed light around them beams 

With perfect glow. 
What careth she if Cupid screams 
That love hath some imperfect dreams? 

'Tis better so. 

May the clouds that dim her future sky 
Faint shadows cast while passing by 
And bring into her watchful eye 

Love's sacred light; 
Unto her heart love's sweet tones cry 
The years that come and swiftly fly 

Are always bright. 



9S TO HANNAH. 



Love looks beyond this vale of tears 
How bright love's future path appears 
The voice that love forever hears 

Its deepest tone; 
Speak not of grief in coming years. 
But only of life's man}^ cheers 

With love alone. 



A UNITED PRAYER. 99 



A UNITED PRAYER. 

I looked — 'twas the face a little child 

That was so wan and sad; 
It seemed the sun had never smiled 

With aught to make it glad. 
I said, "Tell me, my little one, 

What you would have me do." 
She clasped her hands, then looked away 

Toward the skies of blue. 

And then it came so strange to me. 

That voice so sweet and low; 
"Mamma has crossed the silent sea. 

And oh, I want to go. 
Nobody holds my little hands, 

Or clasps me to their breast! 
And oh, if mamma, only knew, 

I know she could not rest." 

"I get so cold and hungry, too. 

And miss dear mamma so! 
And mamma said beyond the blue 

No sorrows we should know. 
My mamma said if I would pray 

For God to watch me here, 
No harm would ever come to me" — 

The voice choked with a tear — 



loo A UNITED PRAYER. 



"And oh, I try so hard to say 

Dear Father, let me die! 
It is so hard for me to stay, 

With mamma in the sky." 
And this my prayer with that sweet child 
Ascended to the throne: 
"Oh God, I pray Thee, reconcile, 

Or take Thy wanderer home." 



LINES TO CHARLES STROBEL. loi 



LINES TO CHARLES STROBEL. 

Spring hath come, with all its beauty, 
Blossoms shed their sweet perfume, 

But the fairest flower had left us — 
When we laid thee in the tomb. 

We have watched thee fading, Charlie, 

Hour by hour, and day by day. 
How our hearts have learned to cherish, 

As time passed so swift away. 

Swift, because it took thee from us 
Brought the hour to say good-bye! 

When no more we would see thee, Charlie, 
Till we shall meet beyond the sky. 

When no more thy voice would call us 
With its tender weight of love, 

Yet we know that we shall meet thee 
In that better world above. 

Yes. too dear for earthly trials, 

Far too pure for earthly care, 
You would still be with us, Charlie, 

Could we kept you here by prayer. 

Oh! how 'oft we have prayed for thee 
Asked that God would spare thy life. 

But He knew its cares and trials. 
And bore thee early from its strife. 

But the golden link that binds us 
Reaches to that Heavenly clime. 

And we soon will join thee, Charlie, 
Where tolling bells will never chime. 



I02 LINES TO CHARLES STROBEL. 



Hearts that when you left were breaking, 
As the parting hour had come, 

Feel a strange and solemn gladness 
Knowing thou art safe at home. 

Knowing that thy cares are over, 
That thy joys, mean ever more. 

Feeling thou wilt guard our pathway 
Till we reach that heavenly shore. 

Thus hope's bright rainbow glisl„ris 
Even while the cross we bear, 
For we know that thou art waiting 
For thy loved ones over there! 



SACRED GRIEF. 103 



SACRED GRIEF. 

Nothing but leaves, the spirit grieves, 

And yet we never know, 
How much seems fair that oft deceives, 

Where we our love bestow. 
The leaves so green, as oft are seen 

May fade before they fall; 
And yet the change so much doth mean 

As it soon must come to all. 

The leaves I plucked were brightest red. 

How soon the story's told; 
I saw them drooping, and I said. 

Their change was not the gold. 
But in the coming years I knew 

How dear those leaves would be, 
As in my heart some sweets that grew 

They would bring back to me. 

I said ''but leaves the spirit grieves" 

And wondered if 'twas true; 
Yet pretty leaves, she who believes 
Hath greatest faith in you. 
I said some day when years have past 

I think of where you hung; 
No doubt you will some shadow cast. 

Touch a chord so long unstrung. 



I04 SACRED GRIEF. 



But dearest leaves, my heart receives 

The strangest, sweetest thrill, 
I see theirin life's golden sheaves 

And bow me to his will. 
What comes to me in future hours 

Will have its joys as well; 
Who know of all the fragrant flowers, 

In future you may tell. 

I said dear leaves "the spirit grieves" 

For the hidden treasures lie; 

In future years the heart believes, 

Whate'er hath passed me by. 
And oft while gazing in the nook. 

Where thou doth fondly rest; 
I'll turn the pages of a book 

My heart may claim the best. 

And dearest leaves, my fairy weaves 

How gently tears will flow; 
As from the past my heart receives 

Some warm impassioned glow. 
And I will turn me back again, 

While thoughts of tender tics 
Will waft me to that distant plain, 

My home beyond the skies. 



VOICES OF THE STORM. 105 

VOICES OF THE STORM. 

Hark! how the wind doth blow, 

And fiercer grows the gale; 
Darkly the heavens glow, 

Deep the tempest's wail! 
Myriad voices seem to cry 

A requiem e'er yet they die! 

We hear that strange, low moaning sound 

Just like a spirit lost! 
It's way round a million homes is found, 

As if with bitter memories tossed 
And e'en that death brought no relief. 

But deeper, more intense the grief! 

Oh! Voices! 'mid the forest's gloom 

Is heard your piteous moan; 
Like dying mortals that know their doom. 

Can ne'er repress a groan! 
But oh! that wild, that bitter cry 

Of a soul that's lost, when it comes to die! 

And yet the moaning tempest's cry 

Hath many a charm for me; 
It brings the hour when I must die. 

When earth's fading light I'll see! 
May the voices now that moan and wail 

Not be like those my spirit hail! 



io6 FAR BETTER THAN A PRIZE. 



FAR BETTER THAN A PRIZE. 

I have read the pretty verses, 

That were written for the prize, 
In March number of Home, Sweet Home, 

And I think them very wise. 
When you don a pretty apron 

And it is nice and clean. 
How could one help but triumph 

In playing kitchen queen? 

For the hands that do the housework 

And helps the kettle to boil. 
Are the dearest hands on earth 

Though hardened oft by toil. 
To those dear hands we owe so much; 

They, life's fondest hopes unfurled; 
"For the hand that rocks the cradle 

Is the hand that rules the world." . 

The hand that holds the milking pail 

And churns the pound of gold, 
Will steer the future of the land 

And never can grow old. 
Where the smile of sweet contentment 

Ever on the face is seen, 
The world will bow to her who walks, 

A triumphant kitchen queen. 



BE FIRM AND TRUE. 107 



BE FIRM AND TRUE. 

We hear the music of the band, 

The sound of beating drum; 

And know once more upon our land 

The campaign year has come. 
We hear the beHow of the horn 

The sound of tramping feet, 
While upon the breeze is ever borne 

The hope that lips repeat; 
Then let us pray that every heart 

Bear only a true Christian's part. 

Let not the rioter's shame be yours 

Nor drinking daze your brain. 
For it is your Country's honor boys 

And not your Country's shame. 
Then let the voter's hand be firm 

Undimmed his eye to see, 
And for those you think the best 

Whoever they may be. 
True hearts at home will pray that you 

Vote for the truest, noblest too. 

It is not for the loud hurrahs 

Nor for the longest cheer; 
God gave to us a nobler cause 

To patriot hearts so dear, 
Vote for the man that in your heart 

You think the best will prove; 
Then you can feel you've done your part 

And won your country's love. 
This rule in years to come would be 
Or prove our Country's victory. 



io8 THE CRICKET'S SONG. 

THE CRICKET'S SONG. 

Once more I sit and listen 

To the cricket's low sweet song; 

And oh! the long departed years 
Pass swift in memory's throng; 

They reach th^ heart's remotest coll 
And lingering there long to dwell. 

The cricket hath a charm for me 

In every song it sings; 
It reaches back into the past 

The yearning heart unstrings; 
And voices that I hear no more 

Come faintly back as in the yore. 

And oh! I cry, you little love 

With song so sadly sweet; 
Of all the songsters earth can give 

Without you, 'twere incomplete; 
The strange sweet things your songs unfold 

Are more to me than wealth untold. 

The longing heart's intensest cry 
By your sweet song is thrilled; 

We feel that with the things of life 
'Tis filled and over-filled; 

And yet the lips cannot repeat 

What thrills the heart, so sadly sweet. 

Oh! coming years still bring to me 

The cricket's evening song; 
Although 'tis not the gladsome thrill 

Its low sweet strains prolong; 
But as upon my ear they fall 

The sad, sweet things of life, recall. 



UNDYING LOVE. 109 



UNDYING LOVE. 

Ah! sweet the thrills of love's mad touch, 
Though like the dagger's thrust; 

When once it at our heartstrings clutch 
It gilds them with its rust. 

And yet, oh, tell me who would be 

From love with all its madness free? 

'Tis love that brightens every eye, 
While love the cheek doth pale. 

Yes, love will last and friendship die, 
For true love cannot fail. 

'Tis love, the purest, truest, best, 

That thrills the heart with strange unrest. 

Oh, why was love, all Godly-given, 

Tramped in the dust so low? 
When, purified, like dews from heaven 

Has an eternal glow. 
Pure love is like the hand of death — 
Clings closer with the latest breath. 

'Tis murmured when the lips have said 
To friends of earth, "Good-bye!" 

It greets the longing spirit fled 
The first beyond the sky. 

Yes, love, the love that knows no death. 

That flees not with the faltering breath. 

With all its pain, the sweetest flowers 

This world has ever known 
Are found within love's sunny bowers, 

E'en when all hope hath flown! 
That purified and sacred love 
Will find reward in heaven above. 



no SOME DAY, SOME TIME. 

SOME DAY, SOME TIME. 

Some day, some time, 
I will hear the sound of distant feet 

And, oh, so short will grow my breath 
And while my heart doth strangely beat, 

I'll know 'tis the approach of death! 

Some day, some time. 

Some day, some time, 
They will fold my lifeless hands. 

When they have closed my sightless eyes, 
While around my bier all weeping stands 

Those loved, those earthly broken ties, 

Some day, some time. 

Some day, some time. 
When on the last, last earthly ride 

This mortal body ever takes; 
To those who weep for me inside, 

What solemn sounds the carriages makes! 

Some day, some time. 

Some day, some time. 
They will stand beside my narrow bed 

And see me pass from earth away; 
Then will leave me with the silent dead, 

A cold and lifeless lump of clay. 

Some day, some time. 

Some day, some time, 
Those who have loved me here below. 

Will think of m.e with eyelids wet. 
And as the years still come and go. 

Will think, alas! and then forget! 

Some day, some time. 



BY AND BY. m 



BY AND BY. 

How strange we mortals here below 
Will watch the seasons come and go; 

As flowers on a clinging vine. 
So hope is yours as well as mine 

While smiling from a cloudless sky, 
That low sweet whisper by and by. 

Yes, by and by life will be sweet 
All sorrows buried neath the feet; 

Hopes fragrant breath will fan our brow 
And whisper soon 'tis yours, not now; 

Ah; yes, 'tis this self-same refrain 
That clasps the link of life's long chain. 

And thus the days and years go by 
And oft dark clouds obscure the sky; 
While lengthening this coil of rope 
Around each strand is twined sweet hope, 

And though its hands we never clasp 
How oft we find it near our grasp. 

How fair to us the flowers bloom 
And o'er us falls their sweet perfume; 

And life with all its golden rays 
Around our pathway often plays 
When them we reach, hopes gentle sigh 
Floats on before with by and by. 



iia THE WILD WAVES. 



THE WILD WAVES. 

Oh; what does the wild waves whisper 
As they lash against the shore? 
And I hearken to a lisper, 
That tells me much and more — 
Than pens have ever painted 
Or tongues have ever told, 
Of lives that's been untainted 
Of stories sweet and old. 

Of those that sank forever 
Beneath their waves so blue; 
Of fond hopes buried ever 
Of hearts loyal and true. 
And then again like moaning 
Compelled by hands of fate; 
Of those that still are roaming 
And those that watch and wait! 



DECORATION DAY. 113 



DECORATION DAY. 

Two and two they marched together 
Boy and girl, and girl and boy; 
Faces like sunshiny weather 
Bright with happiness and joy 
Save in the eyes a gentle pleading 
With their shy and side-long glances, 
Marching where their teachers leading 
Do not smile at their advances! 
Guilty looks cast at each other 
Some one's sister! Some one's brother? 
"Teacher, almost to the court house 
Can't we boys all walk together?" 
Like some frigtened little mouse 
When we're about to draw the tether! 
But some day with eyes atwinkle 
Thinking of this march of their's; 
With their smiling face awrinkle 
As each one their love declares! 
Court house then its terrors looses 
Unless some brother's sister refuses! 



114 ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 

Ah; Lincoln, with thy unkept hair 

And with thy bearing ill at ease, 

'Tis this that we call debonair 

A heart to love, a will to please, 

And greater still than all of these 

Thy country's future all thy care. 

We love thee as we love our own, 

For dear to us the hand browned by toil 

And honest labor and the tilled soil 

Alike thy presence and thy work hath known, 

The anvil and the axe may cease to be. 

But even when they into myths have flown 

Yet in the silence of the past we still shall see 

The name of Lincoln gleam through history. 



VOICES IN MY HEART. 115 



VOICES IN MY HEART. 

Like the sound of distant waters 
Comes the murmuring of years; 

And there sweet familiar voices 
Once more wafted to my ears. 

Through the mellow moonlight shadows 
Comes the rippling of the breeze; 

In my heart some gentle fingers 
Playing strange sweet melodies. 

Oh; I cry, why am I yearning 
For those mystic glades unknown? 

In my heart doth sweetly linger, 
Fairy visions that have flown. 

Why will some sweet memory haunt us 
Though unreal it seems to be? 

In our ears why do they whisper 
Things so sad to you and me? 

Ah; vain heart why do you murmur 
At those voices soft and low; 
Even though they whisper to us, 
Sweets that we may never know? 

Then accept their mute caresses 
Wafted by the evening breeze; 

Where their voice is heard the sweetest 
Soughing gently through the trees. 



ii6 ENTERTWINE. 



ENTERTWINE. 

Will you go and pluck a flower 
With its petals soft and fair? 

Breathing from its sunny bower 
Fragrance on the summer air; 

Then, ah; then return to me 
Asking what is purity! 

Will you clasp a little child 
Closely to a loving breast; 

Looking in the eyes so mild 
See such innocence confessed! 

Then, ah; wilt thou answer me 
Is there aught like purity? 



NOT ALL IN VAIN. n? 



NOT ALL IN VAIN. 

"Within a green and shady bed, 

A modest violet grew, 
It's stalk was bent, it hung its head 

As if to hide from view. 

Thus fair are flowers we never see, 
And none their worth may know; 

Their sweet perfume all silently. 
Some wandering winds may blow. 

The leaves may lift on foreign boughs. 
Touched with their sweet perfume. 

As onward mournfully it soughs. 
Laden with fragrant bloom. 

And hearts may yearn for just one scent, 
Of their sweet wasted breath; 

O! straying winds, why have you lent 
Their fragrance unto death. 

And yet they have not bloomed in vain. 

Those silent lovely flowers; 
The wandering winds will stoop again 

To search their hidden bowers. 

And many a happier heart today, 
If wealth of earth would fade; 

And difference be cast away. 

Where worth its mark hath made. 



ii8 THE REGULAR VISITOR. 



THE REGULAR VISITOR. 

Did you ever really notice 
Half the visitors that roam? 
And those we find most often 
Enter in our hearts and home? 

When we see the carrier coming 
And we the daily news assail, 
How we love to read the paper 
That is coming through the mail. 

How we chatter o'er the tidings 
In the letters that we read; 
'Tis upon the dear old paper 
That our intellect doth feed. 

There we find in hours of leisure 
Words of comfort and of rest; 
And we feel it is the paper 
That we really love the best. 

Then with joy we hail its coming 
As we o'er its pages bend; 
And while we devour its contents 
How we love this faithful friend. 



AUTUMN TIME. 119 



AUTUMN TIME. 

Red and yellow are bright autumn hues 
While brown and green will interfuse; 
Beautiful colors the Lord hath chose 
To adorn the summer's calm repose. 

As we look at the woodland slopes today, 

With rainbow hues that mingle there, 
With a burst of wondering awe we say, 
Is there aught on earth can be so fair? 

Beautiful scenes the Lord hath given, 
Bright are the paths that would lead to heaven; 
The springtime is gay and the world seems new. 
While each of its months bring something to view, 
Then comes summer in its bright array, 

As we look across its rich waving fields 
We think it more fair than the beautiful May, 
With all its grandeur and bountiful yields. 

Ah! beautiful summer, with rich, golden grain, 
Shall all your flowers blossom in vain? 
Say, will your perfection, like a faltering breath, 
Pass away as a vagrant, to darkness and death? 
Then helps us "Our Father" with the adornment of fall. 

As with awe we gaze on the beautiful scene; 
Let thy love and thy mercy a faithfulness call 
To the heavenly fountain fields eternally green! 



I20 DRIFTING WITH THE TIDE. 



DRIFTING WITH THE TIDE. 

Too often we clamber in the boat 

And push it from the shore, 
With indifiference we watch it float, 

While by our sides the oar. 
We gaze toward a cloudless sky, 

How strange this world, and wide! 
The hours to us go flitting by; 

We are drifting with the tide. 

How many a soul is wrecked in life 

And cast upon the shore. 
Who would have never known a strife, 

If their boat had but an oar 
Or, better still, a willing hand. 

That boat to safely guide. 
'Tis easier to row for land. 

Than go driftmg with the tide. 

We find the hands that clutched the oar 

With a firm and determined will 
Will safely row their boat ashore, 

With an unerring skill. 
The calm, determined strokes proclaim 

How swift the boat will glide; 
'Tis will that makes life's grandest aim, 

Not drifting with the tide. 



THE GOLDEN WEDDING. 121 

THE GOLDEN WEDDING. 

(Dedicated to Mr. and Mrs. J. H. Martin, of South Raub.) 

Fifty years we've gone together 
Down the weary road of life; 

Fifty years the clouds and sunshine 

We have shared together, wife, 
Fifty years we've toiled together — 

Borne its darkness and its light; 
Tell me, are you happy, Patience, 

With its memories tonight? 

Fifty years I've found you waiting. 

E'en when shadows closed the door! 
Fifty years! the time seems longer 

Than it ever did before. 
Fifty years, my wife, we've labored, 

Quick the years have passed us by! 
Did we think, at its beginning. 

With such swiftness time would fly? 

In this time we've seen our children 

Grow to man and womanhood. 

Tell me, are there many changes 

We would make now if we could? 
How our hearts have knit together 

In the journey of the past! 
Yet we know the snows of winter 

Soon must chill us with their blast. 



122 THE GOLDEN WEDDING. 



Still, how many years may find us 

In our journey here below? 
If we could view the future, 

Would we really want to know? 
For the eye that watched our pathway, 

As we climbed the hill of life. 
Don't you think will guaard His children 

'Till we're through this earthly strife? 

Fifty years! our own dear loved ones 

Gather 'round us and we smile. 
Sweet, yet strangely sad, the memories 

Clutching at our hearts the while! 
Looking back, then in the future. 

Let it bring us what it will, 
Fifty years He has watched above us, 

We can surely trust him still. 



TO THE LITTLE NEPHEW. 123 



TO THE LITTLE NEPHEW. 

Oh; see the tiny baby fingers, 

And the wee'st baby feet; 
In this world where mortal lingers, 

To know "the bitter with the sweet' 
He has come awhile to tarry 
Will you like it little fairy? 

Little eyes that ope' with wonder 
In their depth a calm surprise; 

As the clouds that burst asunder 
Show the blue of summer skies, 

Will that same light ever dwell 

All your joy and grief to tell? 

Will you cause some hope to perish 
In the years the hearts that cherish 

Every move that now you make; 

Now pure as the white snow flake? 
Say you nay; you tiny stranger 
Bid us laugh at future danger 

Ah! I pray may angels hover 

O'er your path where e'er it be; 

May they every grief discover 
E'er it comes sweetheart to thee. 

Tiniest of baby midgets 

Surely you have got the figets . 



124 TO THE LITTLE NEPHEW. 



How our hearts have sung your praises 
Ever since we heard your cry; 

Like a bundle of sweet daises 

Dropped down to us from the sky, 

You have bound us with a fetter 

Tell us, could we love you better? 

Looking up with searching glances 
Has your pleadings been in vain? 

How we love your shy advances 
And never wish to give you pain, 

None could ever be more sweeter 

And you make our lives completer. 



BABY MAXWELL CHAMBERLAIN. 125 

BABY MAXWELL CHAMBERLAIN. 
'Tis sweet for me to think of thee 
Thou sprightly rogue of childish glee; 

Oh; would that thou 

In years as now; 
As we before thy kingship bow! 
Be just as happy still and free. 

Of childhood's day, we're prone to say 
"Those happy hours soon pass away;" 

But oh; for you 

With eyes of blue 
We hope this saying is untrue; 
And your happiness will last for aye. 

Baby Maxwell true, how can we rue 
Our chide ourselves for loving you? 

That sweet surprise 

In laughing eyes 
Is like a glimpse of paradise 
So enchanting to our view. 

Our love's not vain, Maxwell Chamberlain 
For we would love thee o'er again; 

Like a fountain pure 

You hold secure 
Our love that through life will endure! 
Bound by love's golden chain. 

Why hope or fears? for the after years 
May greet thee one of our nation's peers; 

When clouds may greet 

Thy weary feet 
For fame and gold are not so sweet; 
Then return to love that always cheers. 



126 J. WHITCOMB RILEY. 

J. WHITCOMB RILEY. 

Could we feel the magic influence of a pen that seems divine. 
We would kneel in blest confusion at J. Whitcomb Riley's 

shrine; 
For the ripple of the breezes, and the murmur of the trees; 
Are the sounds that's sure to greet us, in his tuneful melodies 

In the past as in the future, he will greet us on the way. 

And somehow; we long to linger, o'er the words we hear 

him say: 
Why, there's music in the motion of the hand he points at 

you. 
While we listen to his stories, eyes grow moist with sudden 

dew. 

And we know just how we love him, in a perfect conscious 

way 
And we love him all the better, though our hearts are his 

to sway! 
And we feel a tender yearning, never touched by frosts of 

time. 
When we hear him speak so gently, of "That old sweetheart 

of mine." 

All the future years that's coming, all that now have passed 

away, 
Ne'er can give to us another, as he holds our hearts today; 
Ah! the music grows so tender, mellower the light doth 

shine ; 
When around the brow of Riley, we the laurel wreath 

entwine. 



